The Strength to Sacrifice
by 2xTheSpeedOfLife
Summary: One choice. One sacrifice. One incredible tranformation. Five fairies once risked everything they had ever known to save the people they loved, sacrificing their lives, their dignity, their entire selves. This is the story of how their lives were changed forever.
1. Chapter 1

_This is an idea I've had for a while, and finally I've decided to act upon it. It's just a little series of vignettes that I wrote for the sole purpose of getting to know each one of the girls a little bit better, perhaps for the sake of future stories (who knows?). And what better way to do that at both their weakest and strongest moment: their enchantix sacrifices? This will be a small one-chapter story with one blurb for each of the girls (minus Bloom, becuase she got off easy), in which each one must experience an emotional anagnorisis. I hope it is to your liking._

* * *

**On the Horizon **

"The sun's almost down!"

The realm of Tides is world-renown for its fabulously beautiful sunsets. Hopefuls would flock from miles around to take in just one once-in-a-lifetime view for a few choice minutes, but I've always had the privilege of being one open window away. I had incessantly been taught to appreciate the magic of a Tidal sunset; in fact, it had been one of the few of my parents' lessons that had actually stuck.

In times of solitude, the sun had been my only companion, and the sunset would serve to bring us closer together each evening. It had been on a relaxing note that most of my palatial evenings ended, watching the blood-red sun slowly inch its way into the ocean until it was at last swallowed up by the waves. At other times, its glow was invigorating rather than soothing, inviting me to come play, to join it in a dance over the waves. It was an invitation I could seldom ignore.

Even now, of all times, I bet it was a beautiful sunset, and my heart contracted when I thought about what I would be missing: both the good and the bad.

For even childhood memories of dusks spent waterskiing, surfing, or even simply skipping rocks from the shore did little to console me. I had been on Tides for hours now, but I had yet to find my home. This wasn't home. This was _wrong._

Valtor was responsible. _Valtor._ Just the sound of his name in my head was enough to send an icy chill up my back that was immediately scorched by the desire for revenge. Once I got my sight back, once I could see with my own eyes the murky placidity of our once beautiful ocean, the terror and hopelessness that plagued the eyes of my people; Valtor would have me to answer to for the destruction of my planet.

He thought he could defeat me by blinding me. He was about to think twice.

Wordlessly, I accepted the queen's scepter. I felt the warm aura that coursed through it, the incredibly powerful healing magic. I didn't need my sight to know that this was an object of tremendous power. Only an artifact of this caliber could even have a prayer of restoring both my sight and healing the injured Queen Ligea.

"You go first, Layla." A reinforcement of what I had been telling myself. "My mother promised you her scepter's healing power."

But something was wrong. Even as she spoke, I could feel the magic flow of the scepter ebbing away like water through cupped fingers. The warmness of dusk, as well as the beauty of the unseen sunrise, was fading. Fast.

I faced the sky, furious at the sudden betrayal. _Damn sun. After all these years you desert me now._

"I can feel there's not enough sunlight left for it to heal both of us." And that was it. As I uttered those words, I knew I had sealed my own fate. A pair of eyes for the life of a queen: what kind of an exchange was that? Queen Ligea's life was much more important than the revival of my sight.

But even knowing that didn't stop the tears from falling.

I knew that I had attempted to live my entire life without assistance. I could take care of myself. I could go where I wanted, do as I pleased, hold my own in a fight if I so chose. No matter what, I could always rely on myself to be strong and independent. But no; I could see now that my entire past had been nothing more than a façade. How could I have been so strong when all my life I was just one step away from complete and utter helplessness?

I had been wrong this whole time. Valtor _had _ruined me. Without my sight, I was nothing.

My individualistic lifestyle had seemed as effortless as a stone skimming across the water off into the horizon. But now I realized that with no momentum, what was there to stop me from sinking? Like it or not, my friends had always been there to back me up. Who would I be without them? What would I be capable of?

I needed them. I had always needed them, and now I needed them more than ever. What was there to set the lifestyle of reliance that was to come apart from my old life?

The answer came to me easily: the fact that there was no way I'd ever be able to repay them. I'd be useless, dead weight.

Well, if I was going to spend eternity in my friends' debt, I had to take every opportunity I could to pay them back. Starting now.

"Scepter," I commanded, holding it up to face the dying sun, "heal the queen."

It would be my last independent act.

* * *

**A Sun in the Darkness**

Let's just say that today didn't go as well as planned.

All things considered, it wasn't the _first_ time the day had come to a close with us running for our lives. I for one had been practically chased to the edges of the Magic Dimension by ogres, witches, very unhappy shopkeepers: you name it. But here I was, complaining about how we were _quite_ unceremoniously displaced from the castle grounds, when right beside me, Bloom was trying her hardest not to cry, bless her heart.

Who could blame her? All she could talk about this morning was how today was going to be the best day of her life, how she had been looking forward to it for weeks now, and so on and so forth. And now here she was, running from her very own boyfriend, who had incidentally confessed profound love to another woman and was now chasing us on _dragonback_ from the palace grounds. If he was trying to make a bad impression on her, he was totally on the right track.

When we got out of this complete disaster alive, as I'm sure we would, I was so going to give Sky a piece of my mind. Trashing your own party was bad enough—_tres_ inconsiderate—but trashing a party meant to be your girlfriend's special day was all-time low. So what if he may have happened to be under a spell? This was completely unforgivable! _No one_ messed with my best friend and got away with it, spelled or not.

But he could at least show some decorum, maybe! Nineteen years as princess of Solaria had taught me the ins and outs of being a proper hostess, and I was positive that setting dragons on the loose was _huge_ no-no. Sky might suddenly have it out for Bloom, but that was no reason to bring the guests into this as well. Although dragons might not have been specifically mentioned in the handbook or wherever they keep hostess guidelines, it was common knowledge that hosts did not simply endanger their guests; there was no faster way to clear out a party. Although I was relieved that most of the people managed to escape the carnage, I had to admit that having guests, especially royalty, flee from your own party did nothing for your public image.

But not everyone had managed to leave, as it soon became apparent.

"Help me!"

I had almost reached the safety of the airship when I heard the desperate plea of another victim of the Eraklyon dragons. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Brandon waving me in; we were the ones they were after, after all. And if it was anyone else, I would have all too willingly followed my shnookums inside. But apparently, the universe decided it simply couldn't be just anybody.

"Daddy?"

But...impossible! The Solarian aircraft was one of the first to leave—I had seen it myself! What on Magix was Daddy doing still here?

Cassandra! That horrid, fashion-challenged old hag must have left without him! But now wasn't the time to add to the list of reasons why Cassandra _seriously_ needed to be pitched into the sun—my Daddy needed me!

_Hang on Daddy—I'm coming!_ Coming to an abrupt halt, I turned right back around and flew as fast as my wings would carry me back toward the palace. _Almost there!_

I reached the courtyard in a flurry of terrified passers-by, thrashing dragons, and furiously fluttering wings, and with no time to spare. If I had arrived even a second late, I'd bet Daddy would be dragon chow by then. There was no question: that thing was seriously asking for a dragon-sized sunburn.

"Back off, dragon!" I yelled, cupping my palms together. In them appeared a gradually increasing warmth, an orb of the light that flowed through my veins. With a grunt, I released the flow of energy, which successfully hit its target.

The victory was short-lived, however, only successfully redirecting the monster's attention. The dragon lunged for me this time, its claws outstretched, and it was only on a whim that I managed to dodge its attack, shrieking as I did so.

That overgrown lizard was _so_ asking for it now! It was about to find out that no one—_no one_—messed with Solaria's sweetheart and lived. With my free hand, I tossed my ring up into the air, which transformed at its peak and returned to my hand as the Scepter of Solaira.

_Take this, lizard!_ "Solarian sunbeam!"

But despite the fact that it was a powerful attack only reserved for the deadliest and ugliest of enemies, it didn't hold the dragon back for long. It was only a handful of seconds before it dragged itself back up, _completely_ disregarded me, and once again made a beeline for my Daddy.

No! I thought, desperately trying to go and fend the dragon off, but for some reason, I suddenly couldn't move. My wings felt like jelly, and every time I made an attempt to move, it seemed as though something was holding me back.

Frantic as a shopper in a clearance sale, I threw a desperate glance Daddy's way, and that's when I _knew_. That expression on his face—a visual of pure terror—I had seen it before. He had stared at me just like that not too long ago. It had been that very expression I had seen at my own princess ball, when I had turned into a monster right before his eyes.

Right before he had sent the Solarian guard after me.

Now here I was: well out of the dragon's path. I could very well run right now; I could fly as quickly as I had come back to the ship, where my friends and my Brandon were waiting for me. It would serve him right. After all, he tried to have me killed; he wouldn't even listen to me.

_Oh, Daddy, why would you do that to me?_

I was aware, of course, that it was all Cassandra's fault. He might have even been under her spell. But how did I know that? He was the one who had agreed to marry that horrible harpy! What if he really did love her—and not me anymore?

The dragon stalked ever closer, the orange light of a flame beginning to spill out from its throat.

"No!" I screamed. "Daddy!" And suddenly, my wings started working again, fluttering at least twice as vigorously as normal. My mind was made up.

_You didn't give me the benefit of the doubt, Daddy._ But that was exactly what I was going to do for him. At the last possible second, I landed in front of him and attempted to block the stream of fire with my scepter. _You're lucky though, that in addition to being extremely beautiful, I'm also forgiving._

I gave it everything I had, straining under the effort. Despite my best efforts, my strength was giving out...but no! It couldn't! I was the fairy of the sun and moon! What was a little fireball compared to the massive energy of the sun?

But as the flames started to lick my fingertips from the other side of the scepter, I sank to my knees in defeat.

_I can't do this...I can't...it's just too hot..._

_...too bright..._

I never thought in a million years that I would be relieved for darkness.

* * *

**One Last Lament**

I've seen some pretty wacked-up things in the past. You don't even want to _know_. But when Galatea rushed back into the fire just to salvage a couple of old books, I was certain that the world, or at least the princess, had gone insane.

I quenched my fury at her idiocy as she disappeared into the flames. Although I daren't say anything at the moment, I was so fed up with princesses and their damn protective instinct. With the possible exception of Stella, I had never met a single princess without some sense of duty. Bloom's was toward her lost parents; Layla's was toward her planet, etcetera. How could I even think for one second that Galatea was somehow different?

And now, thanks to her so-called duty—toward what, anyway, a bunch of books?—she was about to be killed.

"Galatea!" I yelled, as if hearing her own name would help her to come to her senses. When she made no attempt to reply, swearing under my breath, I took off and followed her into the flames. _Someone_ needed to knock some sense into that head of hers.

"Musa, wait!"

Wait? I didn't think so. I had spent nearly my entire life waiting for something or other: for ends to meet, for things to start happening, for _certain people_ to see sense and stop acting like complete idiots. Believe me: I wasn't going to wait a minute longer.

Flying low to avoid the lung-crushing smoke, I rounded a flaming bookcase and sped off down the isle, to where Galatea waited doing who-knows-what at the other end. The farther I flew into the fire, the harder it was to breathe and to see; the blinding light of the flames, not to mention the smoke, stung my eyes and made me see spots wherever I looked. It was only due to the fact that I could fly that I could navigate through the place at all.

That's when I remembered: Galatea had no wings.

Well, that was sure as Shadowhaunt going to make my job a whole lot harder.

I landed lightly beside the princess, doing my best not to cry out as I was hit full blast with the heat of the fire. The blazing temperature did bring tears to my eyes, though, and I had barely moved before my skin started to glisten with sweat. I knew that I would have only a few seconds to convince the princess to come with me, navigate through the fire on foot, and get her out of here.

Impossible? Maybe. But I could deal.

"Musa?" Galatea looked on the verge of collapse, with her arms full of books and her eyes full of tears. Knowing that we had no time to lose, I grabbed her roughly by the arm, causing a few books to tumble out of her arms, and be devoured by the hungry flames.

"Come on; we need to get you out of here," I urged, tugging hard on her arm. When I met resistance, I gave a huge, half-scared half-outraged cry. "Let's go! Let's get out of this oven!"

"But...the books..." Galatea wailed desperately, yanking her arm from my grasp. Frantically, she turned to face the bookcase and started pulling one book after another from its shelves, coughing as smoke invaded her windpipe

"Forget them!" I screamed at her over the roar of the flames. "Just come on!"

"But I—" Galatea screamed suddenly as, all of a sudden, the bookcase in front of her succumbed to the fire, bursting into angry flames before her eyes. She stumbled backward, books spilling all over the floor. She made no attempt to pick them all up, however, instead giving in at last, allowing me to support her under her arm.  
So this dark fire was too much for even a princess's sense of duty.

As I attempted to find a relatively safe path for the two of us to step through, though, I wondered at that very sense that caused her to even now clutch the pair of books she had managed to salvage to her chest. Her responsibility towards the spellbooks couldn't be so prominent as to brave a wildfire, so what was it that had brought her back?

Maybe it was a weird duty/guilt meld. Galatea had led the witches to the books in the first place, so of course she'd feel responsible for their destruction. Maybe saving as many as possible was a way of redeeming herself.

As annoyed as I was at it for getting us in this mess, I found myself marveling at the princess's sense of responsibility. Sure, it was being used for some trivial books, but not everyone had that same instinct.

And I couldn't help but wish that more of the people I knew did.

After Mom's death, nothing was really the same between Dad and me. He had been completely consumed by grief for as long as I could remember, closed to me and to the world. I loved him, but it just really hurt that he dismissed music from our lives, knowing full well that he was casting away my entire life. He had abandoned me when I was at my most vulnerable, also taking away the only thing that could've possibly helped me cope.

And then there was Riven. _Riven..._I didn't even know what I felt about him anymore. The truth was that there was a rockiness between us that had developed a long time ago, and it was now simply a chronic part of our relationship. I had come to expect the fact that I could rarely depend on him—in fact, I still hadn't forgiven him for running off with those witches the year before. It was like he had no respect for me at all. And yet, despite all this, I still loved him. Like, a lot. I hated myself for it more than anything.

If only two of the most important people in my life felt for me what Galatea felt for those books.

Step by step, Galatea and I slowly but surely covered half the distance of the Hall of Enchantments. But our strength was depleting as fast as the fire was spreading. As careful as we were to avoid any traces of fire, it still felt like we walked deeper into a furnace with every step. It was no use; we weren't going to make it.

"It's just too hot," I confessed, choking on the fumes. Galatea took one look at me and immediately plucked the truth from my eyes: there was no chance of the both of us getting out of this alive.

"Save yourself," she pleaded, and my eyes widened when I realized that I could. With both wings intact, I could flee the fire and safely make it out of harm's way.

She was _telling_ me to leave her, just like Riven and Dad did to me. And Mom...

"No!" I yelled. I wasn't just going to abandon her like this. She needed me.

And as I shoved the painful memories aside, I realized that I had a duty too. _To myself_.  
"Never!" Galatea stared at me, shocked, as I grasped her hand in my own. I squeezed it lightly, reassuring her with my eyes.

_You need me. I would never leave you. Not like Riven._

_You say one thing, but your eyes say another. I know what you need, and I'm here for you. Not like Dad._

_And Mom..._I winced, looked skyward, and sent up one last prayer, one final lament.

_Mom, it's times like these when I miss you more than anything. But this is how I'm going to prove that I can be someone without you._

Satisfied, I returned my gaze to the princess and uttered my last words to her: "I'm not leaving you."

* * *

**To Finally Blossom**

"Rose!" I screamed, running as fast as I could to the water's edge.

_Rose...my baby girl...my sweet sister...her beautiful, infectious smile...racing ladybugs over the treetops...braiding hyacinths into each others' hair..._

Memories...fading fast as her last little finger disappeared beneath the water's blackened depths. And too quickly to be true, she was gone.

"ROSE!" I made a desperate grab at the water, only to recoil just as quickly, clutching my head in agony. The water was giving off a horrifying amount of dark magic vibes. But I couldn't just feel it; I could _hear_ them—the desperate screams of the plants trapped under the polluted stream, their wails of pain as they were hurt by the evil current.

As an aspiring fairy of the flowers, Rose would no doubt be crushed just as easily.

I dropped to my knees and sobbed, my tears adding to the already raging waters. They flowed for Rose's sake, but also because there was nothing I could do to save her.

Or was it because I wasn't doing enough?

_I can't...I can't...the plants...it's too much to bear! I'll never be able to reach her in time! What if I can't save her? What if I don't make it? I can't possibly make it...I'm too weak...too weak..._

But just then, a familiar voice overpowered the chorus of doubts, resonating almost reassuringly against the background clamor. It was but a few seconds before I recognized it as Headmistress Faragonda's.

_No if's or but's; you must act._

Still sniffing piteously, I forced my eyes open to see the trembling face of a fairy reflected in the water. So scared...so unsure...yet, did she have the right to be so after she had achieved so much?

"I can do this," I whispered to my barely distinct reflection in the water, and I was rewarded with a fierce, determined gaze in return. I had to try for Rose's sake, just like I tried to revive Mirta from her transfigured state, like I restored the Flower of Life after one last effort. Encouraged by the transformed girl in the water, I stood shakily, yet still resolute, ready to take the plunge to rescue my little sister. That's when I managed to hear them, still cackling maniacally after all this time: the Trix.

The Trix...who had blasted my dear, sweet Rose into the water without so much as a second thought...

Throughout my life, I've never been as assertive as I'd secretly hoped to be. Why, the very thought of having someone's life in my own hands terrified me, for hear of not knowing if, when, how to act. I always did my best to be there when my friends needed me, but for the most part, problems seemed to work themselves out without my interference.

Those three witches, on the other hand, were a problem that just wasn't going to go away on its own.

The image of Rose's baby fingers disappearing beneath the surface still fresh in my mind, I faced those three...horrid witches with as much fury as I could muster. "That was my _sister_!"

For once in my life, there was no hesitation, no voice in the back of my mind warning me that I was being too harsh. There was only a flash of brilliant light as the single most aggressive spell I knew was cast on the unprepared Trix sisters. There was only fury.

And if I'm being perfectly honest, it didn't feel good at all. But it felt _right_, somehow, as if I was doing my sister justice at last.

Steeling myself, not bothering to witness the terrified screams of the three witches, I dove headfirst into the black water.

_Oh_! The second I hit the water, I was completely overwhelmed as the dark magic in the polluted water pressed in on me from all sides. This was absolutely _awful_, but what had only managed to make me feel horrendous was enough to drive the plants to madness. Their shrieks closed in on me worse than the water, and I nearly cried out as their pain became my own. Those poor plants—dead, or worse! I could already feel my strength depleting as nature's hold in this once-sacred area lessened.

_No_! You can't give up! Rose was still down there somewhere—she needed me!

At last, as hard to see as it was down here, I found her. Lying on the bottom of the stream, entangled in a patch of sea grass, she looked terrifyingly close to death.

Scooping her up in my arms, I tugged her out of the patch of grass, wincing as the plants screeched out in pain as their tendrils snapped. _I'm truly sorry..._but just this once I had to be selfish.

Using the last of my strength, I created a bubble of air, a spell taught to me by Professor Palladium during our nature survival unit, to encase us both. Then I used the last of my magic to revive Rose, and I couldn't help but be relieved when she awoke, albeit coughing and sputtering.

"Why didn't you go back home, Rose?" I asked, not to be accusatory, but just to let her know how much her safety meant to me.

"I...just wanted to be brave," she admitted, her lower lip trembling.

Her next phrase was barely audible: "Like you."

My lips parted, and a lone tear trickled down my cheek. _Oh, Rose darling, I'm not as brave as you think._ She hadn't seen me cower at the feet of the three witches, unable to even move, and then let them hit her beneath the black waves. She hadn't seen me spend those countless extra seconds at the water's edge, sobbing in terror, not even daring to go rescue my own sister.

I wasn't brave.

I was just about to tell her so when I felt a tug at my leg. Looking down, I saw that the sea grass I had so carelessly torn was winding itself around my leg, its extra tendrils waving crazily with the current. I bent down to tug it off me, but it held fast, somehow much stronger than before.

I knew I was stuck down here. My strength was leaving me fast, and I was losing my hold on the spell. There was only one possible course of action, and I wasn't going to spare a second this time.

"I—I'm not going to make it, sweetie," I choked out, wrapping her into one last embrace. I then loosened my hold on her and gathered the last of my magic.

"Wait—Flora!" Rose screamed.

"Bubble," I whispered, "take her to the surface."

It complied, and I was left alone. Alone without a way to breathe. Alone in the maddening caress of the sea grass. Alone with the single regret that Rose would forever remain under the delusion that I was, somehow, brave.

* * *

**Love over Logic**

It was only the most rational course of action at the time.

In fact, it was the _only_ rational course of action. Bloom's and Layla's large, powerful wings might be an asset in any other scenario, but in winds of this velocity, they were nothing more than dead weight, their prominent surface area even dragging them back away from the portal. However unintentional, their wings simply caught the wind currents at precisely the wrong angle.

My electronically-powered wing synthesizers, on the other hand, did not.

It had to be me. All rationality pointed to the fact that there was no other way.

As I approached the portal, however, all common sense that I had been exposed to since youth screamed against this decision. It was too risky, too dangerous. If I turned back now, I might still have enough time to be able to calculate a safer, easier way to tackle this problem. In fact, the majority of puzzles like these could be solved in more than one way, right?

Then again, there were those that couldn't.

I took another step closer. Unhelpfully, my databases chose this moment to point out that entering a vortex of this magnitude produced a seven-point-zero-five chance of managing to close it, and a depressingly lower chance of making it out alive, much less intact.

Funnily enough, I did not appreciate that at the present moment.

_For goodness' sake, Tecna, what a fine time to panic,_ I scolded myself. _Now get a hold of yourself before you completely lose it._

Under normal circumstances, keeping my cool was something at which I could excel. This situation, however, was completely out of the ordinary. I'd never experienced anything like this, and it was exactly what had me so befuddled: what happened when all logic pointed towards making a completely illogical decision?

Perhaps it was a situation that affected each person differently, but for me, it was something of an internal war. A war that made each forward step both a struggle and a force leading the next one on. Needless to say it was not the most pleasant of feelings.

After what seemed like light years, I finally reached the portal, a massive, swirling vortex revolving around the gaping maw that I knew led to the horrible Omega Dimension. The very portal that had once kept Tides safe from the universe's most dangerous criminals now threatened to engulf the entire planet. Countless lives would be lost unless I did _something_.

So _why_ couldn't I let myself penetrate the portal?

I moaned in frustration and threw down the hand I had been using to try and pry my way through. Typical: it was precisely when I needed it most when rationality suddenly became useless to me. What use were databases and computers in a situation like this, when reason itself became a paradox?

_To Shadowhaunt with logic._ At first, I found myself surprised and shocked that a thought like that was capable of crossing my mind, but then I realized that it was quite plainly the truth. _I need something reliable._

But what could be more reliable than logic?

That was just it: nothing. Reason was the most reliable source in the world. But now that it had proved itself worthless, I had no need of it. But if I couldn't think the answer, perhaps, just perhaps, I could _feel_ it.

So I did the most sensible thing I could do, something I had never done before: I abandoned all sense of logic.

I had always kept my emotions under check, carefully controlled. It was true that there was nothing more wonderful than sensation, but letting too many feelings out at once was dangerous and could potentially get in the way of logical reasoning. Now, however, I let my emotions assume total control, allowing them to guide me towards what I felt was the right decision.

But I had miscalculated. Out of practice as I was, I ran the risk of _losing_ control, and I nearly cried out as the overwhelming sense of fear and panic threatened to overpower me entirely. What in the name of the Great Dragon had I been thinking when I assumed that this was the wisest decision? Here I was only moments away from melting into a little heap of hysteria merely inches from my destination. How could I not have predicted that emotions were just as oft counterproductive?

I was just about to lose control entirely when I saw my friends gathered around me.

I'd never turned. They'd never moved from their positions. Yet here they were, their presence a guiding force that erased all sense of fear. Seeing their eyes alight with hope and determination caused a wave of blissful peace to wash over me. They were all so strong, carrying themselves with aplomb under pressure, and as always, now more than ever, they were expecting those very same things from me.

They were all in grave peril. And they were counting on me to be like the Tecna they had always known: calm, collected, level-headed even in the face of danger.

Like a sudden power surge, I was energized with a new sense of determination. I could do this. My friends' lives were on the line; there was too much at stake for it to be logical to _not_ to act. And if, somehow, I lost my own life in the attempt...

So be it.

It was then that a new, bitter emotion came in response to this conclusion: remorse. And I knew then I had to act soon, for fear of being swayed in the other direction. However...

It might have been entirely selfish. I might have been simply indulging myself. But before I left, I permitted myself one last goodbye.

In my mind's eye, took in each of my friends, all the pleasant memories we've had together, how positively delighted I was that we at least had a considerable sum of years we could spend together. How much I'd miss them.

And Timmy...

I winced. Could I do it? Could I recall all the joyous evenings we'd spent studying side by side, enjoying the latest video game, hunched over an aspiring gadget, without experiencing grief so strong I just had to turn back? Could I bring him to my minds eye: his intelligent, ocher eyes, his shy smile, his infectious laugh; without desiring his presence? Could I remember the way my hand fit one hundred percent perfectly in his, his warm embrace, all those tender, almost hesitant kisses, without wishing for just one more?

I knew my own limitations.

_I'm so sorry, Timmy,_ was all I could finally spare myself.

Then I said goodbye: to my friends, Timmy, everyone...

...and took the final step into the vortex.

Statistics is an unusual subject, one that seems to lie outside our realm entirely. It can be quite practical, useful indeed in the event of decision making, for the reason that they don't interfere with the outcome, merely the will of the individual. However, there are some decisions that have to be made a certain way, those in which the right path to take is quite obvious.

These decisions seem to remain untouched by statistics.

Perhaps that was why, even with the probability of success a dismal seven-point-zero-five percent, I was able to gain the final power boost I needed to seal the portal shut. Perhaps that was why, in the lowest of odds, I managed to do the impossible.

I should've known that, with the probability of survival being approximately ten times lower, that another miracle was too much to hope for.

There are some chances that are just too low.


	2. Chapter 2

"Oh, and one more thing..."

Five young women snapped to attention. One unfeeling. One unattractive. One unhinged. Two accusatory.

Arcadia looked away, her expression grave. "You've risked so much to obtain the water stars. Do not let your sacrifice be for naught.

"That is all."

* * *

**Artificial**

"Let's give him some space."

"Yeah...he'll need it, talking to that—"

"You know it wasn't her fault..."

The door shut gently, leaving behind only dead silence and two people sitting on the edge of the bed. One was a boy who had wished not to long ago that relationships were as easily discernible as computers. The other was fate's cruel way of finally answering his plea.

_Where to begin?_ The specialist opened his mouth to speak only to helplessly feel the words falter on the way up to his lips, swept away by his doubts.  
He wasn't prepared for this.

He had known something was wrong with her the moment she had emerged from the entryway to the Golden Kingdom: the technicalities of which he had been yet to find out. Even now, he realized he didn't know everything—causing a crippled blow to both his intuition and his sliver of an ego. He hadn't pressed for knowledge on the journey back either, the fact that the lives of eighteen beings were in the hands of his skill as a pilot seeming to be the more pressing issue at the time.

Still, he wished he could've at least had the chance to check up on her, especially during the flight as the unsettling feeling had grown more prominent. And that was what was the most distressing. Normally, she'd be the one checking up on _him_, sneaking into the co-pilot's chair the minute one of his fellow specialists was foolish enough to get up, only to stubbornly retain her hold on the spot for the duration of the journey. She seemed more at home there than he had seen any of the other specialists, calculating with him the exact controls to initiate for maximum efficiency, laughing at his whims to show off an impressive flight maneuver, eagerly shifting to his lap when he gave into her pleading eyes and let her take the wheel...

The empty chair of his most recent trip seemed to stare him in the face the entire flight.

Now all he had to go by were his own assumptions and the hesitant caveats of the other Winx.

_"She's...in her room..." Bloom's lips tightened as she mentioned the only Winx member absent from the gathering._

_"She's not with you guys?"_

_"She had better things to do, apparently." Stella's voice was distant as she resolutely faced the wall. Then she continued in a mock monotonic voice, "'I require precisely nine-point-four hours of dormancy to maintain proper functionality...' good luck talking to her, Timmy."_

_ Musa shot Stella a fuming glare, evidently close to tears herself, while the others hastily interjected._

_"...she hasn't really been the same..."_

_"...try and be patient with her; she only just..."_

_"...we just want you to be prepared, Timmy..."_

Prepared. Right.

Even now he grasped frantically for words, trying to pull a clue from her eyes. He had never struggled so much to read her; now her blank eyes seemed positively foreign.

So absorbed in his quest for information, he almost didn't catch her mouth move.

"Apologies, but I fail to see the point in rousing me if you haven't the incentive to communicate."

That voice was hers, spoken in that beautiful, richly accented tone. Those words that hung between them could have been stolen right from her lips. But it _wasn't_ her. As sure as he was that he was looking into the eyes of a stranger, he knew that same stranger was speakingto him now.

He swallowed the large lump in his throat. "S-sorry."

"You must have some objective; am I correct?" It was as if he hadn't spoken, his apology shoved aside by her rigid monotone. But if he was being scolded, where was the edge to her tone? The telltale testiness in her voice? Or even, although it was a long shot, the playfulness that assured him that she was merely joking?

Where was the Tecna he knew?

"How...how're you feeling, Tec?" he asked cautiously, cringing when he realized how he must have approached her. She wasn't an enemy—Tecna was in there somewhere; she had to be!

Unfazed by his tone, she answered at once: "Eighteen-point-two percent less than my normal functionality, only natural after a day as arduous as—"

"No," he interrupted. "I mean how are you feeling? I mean—what I'm trying to say is—you've been through a lot today, haven't you? I hope you weren't too upset...or scared...or..." Timmy's voice slowly died as the look on Tecna's face grew increasingly blank.

"...emotion-wise..." he finished weakly, his brows furrowing in confusion. How in Magix was Tecna not able to grasp his meaning right away? _She would have gotten it before..._

He took hold of her hand, unusually limp and cold in his own. "Oh, Tec," he whispered, "what's happened to you?"

Although the question was meant to be rhetorical, Tecna answered him. "Simple: the obtainment of the water stars required for me to make an exchange."

"An...an exchange? But why—?"

"It was inconsequential. My emotionality paled in comparison to the importance of the water stars."

"Your...emotionality?" Timmy recoiled, feeling as though he'd been given a striking blow. "So you gave up..."

"Emotion, correct. The sacrifice was inevitable."

Oddly enough, the intention behind those words seemed to be almost comforting. Not that he felt comforted.

"I don't believe it."

"It is illogical to ignore the truth."

"But...Tecna...what about _us_?" he asked in a rare display of forwardness. He knew that a year ago, she would have given anything to have him pluck up the courage to say those words. But as he uttered them now, she seemed completely unresponsive, her normally vibrant, teal eyes stoic and glassy. When seconds passed and she still didn't respond, he squeezed her hand, still loosely intertwined in his, imagining that he was squeezing some life back into it as well. "Please, Tec...I don't know what I'd do without you."

She responded after the longest time.

"As I am unable to feel, any chance of a romantic involvement is an equivalent too slim to account for."

Timmy was no stranger to probability, and he knew it was irrational to ignore odds like these, but right now he didn't care. "So what? There's still a chance, at least! You said it yourself!"

"You would be completely unsatisfied by my lack of responsiveness."

"That's beside the point," Timmy said, increasingly indignant. "I'd do anything to get you back, no matter what the odds say. I love you."

"There's nothing within reason you can—"

She stopped mid-sentence, the touch of Timmy's hand on her chin effectively cutting her off. Wordlessly, he leaned in and kissed her, purposely being less hesitant than he normally would, hoping to ignite _some_ emotional response. But even pressing his lips up against hers felt wrong. She didn't move; she didn't heat up or blush or even shy away. Her lips were as stagnant as her hand. For all his efforts to be passionate, he might as well have been kissing a robot...

He suddenly pulled away, hurt against his will by his own thoughts and Tecna's emotionlessness. Staring into Tecna's glazed-over eyes, he wondered if she might be right. _What if this really is goodbye? The way she is...I'm only setting myself up to be seriously hurt. The logical thing to do right now would be...to leave._

And that was what she had been trying to tell him all along.

He gave up at long last, the endless minutes of pressing silence forcing him to submit. What was the point, if she was now indistinguishable from a common computer?

"Why did this happen to you?" he whispered, reluctantly letting go of her hand. He slowly stood up, brushed his lips against the top of her head, and made to leave, his heart heavy with sorrow.

"Timmy?"

He spun around, trying to suppress the hope that rose within him.

"The mission objective was a success, was it not?"

"I suppose..." he trailed off, wondering what she was aiming for.

"Then it would do you well to take solace in the fact that this was for the greater good."

He stared at her, his expression equally blank, not willing to believe that despite her robotic-toned voice and her blank eyes, she was trying to be _comforting.._.

Unable to take any more, he fled, not sparing her so much as a backward glance. He deftly avoided the comforting gazes of Bloom and the others, willing himself not to break down right in the middle of the dorm room. There'd be time for that later

_How can it have been a success, when _this_ had come out of it?_

* * *

**This little continuation of the story was a result of a new idea I had that seemed to fit the context. So, surprise! Oh, and I will continue with Stella and Musa next chapter: don't worry!**


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